


Coffee Diplomacy

by Molly_Hats



Series: Kinda-Sorta Writing Teamups [7]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Coffee, Coffee Addiction, Death Wish Coffee, Family Bonding, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Tim Drake-centric, Timeline What Timeline, Unintentionally, and regular Death Wishes tbh, every single one of them, human disasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 07:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14848406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molly_Hats/pseuds/Molly_Hats
Summary: Everybody calls Tim a coffee addict, but honestly, that’s par for the course in his family.  He's just the only one who's not a total hypocrite about it, doesn't bother to hide how much he uses it, and also isn't killing people (which is unrelated, but distracts from one's coffee consumption habits).





	Coffee Diplomacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sohotthateveryonedied](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohotthateveryonedied/gifts).



> Again, based on a headcanon from her blog.
> 
> Look, I love a good "Sleep deprived coffee addict Tim Drake" post/fic/headcanon as much as the next person, but it really overlooks how much everyone in this stupid family is addicted to coffee and is way overdue at the sleep bank (oooh, maybe that's why they die so much! The grim reaper goes "screw you you're sleeping if I have to kill you" and they all go "right then you gotta kill me").

“I’m instituting an age limit on this,” Bruce announced one morning, stalking over to the coffee machine and rather melodramatically removing the pot of Death Wish coffee. Tim, Dick, Cass, and Steph’s heads all jerked up at the announcement. “Now on, only 40 year olds and up.”

“Aw, come on!” “I’m the one that helped launch that line!” “Bruce! I’m like 37!” “You’re not my real dad!”

Bruce ignored all but the second to last comment. He met Dick’s eyes and said gruffly, “45, then.”

Dick threw his hands in the air in annoyance as Bruce solemnly marched out of the room, taking the entire pot of Klatchian coffee with him.

“Bruuuuuuce!” 

Once the door shut behind him, Bruce inhaled the scent of the pot and raised it to his lips.

“A-hem.”

Bruce nearly jumped. His shoulders hunched, and he left them there, knowing he was busted.

“Master Bruce, what exactly are you doing?”

“Drinking coffee,” Bruce said.

“The coffee which I believe you told Tim was ‘a major risk to your cardiovascular system’?”

“Hnn.”

“The one which you told me that you were confiscating and banning from this house as soon as we finished with the Thomas Elliot affair? The one which you said we needed to get Lucius to figure out a way to burn without creating deadly fumes?”

Bruce slowly lowered the pot and his shoulders, exhaling in an almost-sigh. “Alfred…”

“No, please, by all means do go on,” Alfred said with his usual deadpan sarcasm. 

 

Jason came home to his safe house to find a box on his front porch. “Death Wish Coffee” was the label, which meant it had to be some sick joke. Some stupid not-even-pun on his death. After some basic checks, he opened the box. 

There was a note resting atop several bags and a box of smaller coffee pods. 

_Jason--_

_I was storing this at the manor, but then B confiscated everyone’s Death Wish and instituted a stupid age limit. Enjoy--if you like this, I can get you a subscription._

_\--TD_

Jason raised his eyebrows. A quick search later, he discovered that there was such a legit thing as Death Wish Coffee--not that he knew this particular batch wasn’t poisoned, of course. 

He smirked. From the sound of it, it might be worth swinging by the mansion to rub his freedom to drink in everyone’s face. 

 

“If it’s not approved by the FDA, it’s not approved by me!” Jason heard as he approached the study window. He jimmied the lock and rolled his eyes. Bruce had never bothered to secure this window very well, for a reason Jason distinctly remembered discovering. (That particular memory had the dubious honor of taking away one of the few fragments of his innocence he had had remaining back in his Robin days.)

“Uh huh, and all those fear gas antidotes we’ve drugged ourselves with over the years? Definitely went through the proper channels,” Tim’s voice shot back. 

Jason slipped through the window, grabbed his thermos of Death Wish, and made his way across the study, following their voices. 

“It’s not good for you,” Bruce said stubbornly, finally caving to the all-too-familiar “because I said so.”

“So? I’ll buy Steph a subscription to share,” Cass replied, her first addition to the conversation. 

“And I’ll ask Bart or Cassie or Connor to do the same thing,” Tim said. Jason could imagine the kid, his hair sticking up every-which-way, arms crossed, moments from saying something monumentally stupid.

“Or you could sleep at normal times and actually take care of yourselves.”

“Bruce, I’m so deep in sleep debt, I’m never waking up if I did that. And you wouldn't either.”

Jason stole around the corner to catch Cass nodding. Even as she did so, her gaze shifted meaningfully to meet his eyes.

Jason swore and ducked back as Cass ran after him, Tim and Bruce’s confused voices asking what she was doing. She caught up to him in mere moments, pinning him to the wall with strange almost gentleness. 

“What do you want?” she asked, Tim and Bruce moving to either side of her.

Jason smirked, holding his hands up. “I’m here to thank Tim for the birthday gift, sheesh.”

“What…’birthday gift’?” Bruce asked suspiciously, eyeing Tim, then the thermos in Jason’s hand. Tim stood up straight, avoiding shrinking under Bruce’s gaze. He showed a bit more backbone than Jason expected from his research and limited contact.

“Really good coffee,” Jason said, intensifying Bruce’s glare. 

“Tim!”

Tim’s arms shot up to mimic Jason’s gesture of innocence. “You said ‘not in the house.’”

“Timothy…” Bruce chided, voice rising in preparation. He broke off, glancing over at Jason. “Let him go, Cass.”

Cass’ eyes narrowed, but she let go of him. 

Bruce sighed. “Let me get this straight. You”--he turned to Tim--”sent _him_ ”--he pointed to Jason with a half-rotation before turning back to focus his glare on Tim--”a coffee called ‘Death Wish.’”

Tim nodded. 

Bruce buried his face in his hand. “You’re welcome to stay, Jason,” he said when he finally raised his head, twisting to where Jason had been moments before.

Cass shrugged and pointed in the direction Jason had gone, referencing the open window and breeze in the curtains.

“Like father, like son,” Tim muttered to himself, then, louder, “I mean, you did say no Death Wish in the house.”

 

Dick threw open the dining room door. “Alright, who gave Damian coffee?!” 

Cass and Steph simultaneously pointed to Tim.

“Thanks, guys,” he said sarcastically.

“Tim, “ Dick stalked over, “I do not approve of your coffee diplomacy!” 

“Sure, but now all my brothers no longer want to kill me,” Tim said coolly, taking a sip from his water bottle. “Including Damian. That’s a win.”

Dick smacked the table, rattling the bottle Tim had just set down. “Not when you have patrol with him.”

Tim shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Oh, you’re going to be more than sorry when I’m through with you!” Dick declared, his finger inches from Tim’s face. Tim lost his calm, staring cross-eyed down it in wide-eyed alarm. “You and your new best buddy are patrolling together now.”

Cass smirked as Steph snickered. Tim protested, bolting out of the seat. “Dick, come on--!”

“Nope. You decided to make friends with the over-caffeinated hyperactive assassin child, you get to be friends with the over-caffeinated hyperactive assassin child.” With that proclamation, Dick swept out of the room.

“He’s just looking for a new babysitter so he can go back to his solo gig in Bludhaven,” Tim said grumpily, flopping back into his seat to sulk.

“It’s about time you start pulling your weight in Damian team-ups,” Steph commented entirely too gleefully. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim said. “You can say that at the funeral.”

“Your funeral?” Cass asked. 

“One of ours,” Tim said ominously, grabbing his water bottle and heading for the kitchen. He glanced out the window, where the sun was around an hour from sunset. “Taking bets which one now.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I know I said I was putting a lot of things on hold until school ends, but this is unrelated and I just finished my presentation so I'm on a productivity high.


End file.
